


Familia Resurget

by Dragonbat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bat Family, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbat/pseuds/Dragonbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joker tried to destroy the Bat-Family. The Robins are wondering whether he won.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familia Resurget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arysteia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/gifts).



> A/N: Verne Troyer is the actor best known for his portrayal of Mini-Me in the Austin Powers movies.
> 
> A/N: Thanks to Kathy for the beta!
> 
> A/N: Although Death of the Family is a New 52 event, I'm using pre-reboot characterizations. So, think of this as an AU in which Death of the Family happened pre-reboot and all of the canon history/interactions remain intact.
> 
> Timeline: Immediately after the conclusion of the Death of the Family arc. Story title is derived from Resurgam, the epitaph on Helen’s tombstone in Jane Eyre, which means “I will rise again.” Resurget is the third person singular conjugation.

**Familia Resurget**

“I can’t believe you wanted to meet here,” Jason exclaimed, as he slid into the booth. “I mean,” he said, gesturing wildly at the walls, “how many times can you look at a bat-symbol? Especially after what just happened?”

Dick shrugged. “Come around to where I’m sitting and admire the JSA paraphernalia, then,” he replied. He forced a smile. “Welcome to Planet Krypton. The only restaurant where,” he gestured to the five-foot-two server in the Atom suit, “if we were to enter in costume, some head waiter would grab us, tell us we were late, and shove us toward Table Five. I always wanted to check this place out and tonight felt like as good a night as any.”

Jason considered that for a moment before he shook his head. “Mind if I grab a beer?”

“Go ahead. After what happened earlier, I could almost use one myself.”

“Almost?”

“I’m planning to patrol later. Not worth the risk.”

“Says the guy who somersaults into a Hellcatz-Loboys firefight and starts throwing punches,” Jason said with a thin smile that, for once, held no hint of a sneer.

“Yeah, well, I guess you could argue that my judgment’s impaired enough without the alcohol helping it along,” Dick replied. “How’d it go with Bruce, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” It took a moment for the import of Dick’s question to really sink in. “Wait. You stood him up, too?”

“I called,” Dick said, somewhat defensively. “But, yeah. I wasn’t up to hearing what he had to say this time. Which,” he admitted, “sort of kills me, because for years, I’ve been _wishing_ he’d open up and now that he’s finally ready to...”

“Eh...” Jason rolled his eyes. “He probably wouldn’t have been able to get the words out anyway. I mean, get real. What would he have had to say?”

“Agreed,” a new voice piped up. Damian took the vacant seat across from Dick. He looked around. “Tt. This décor leaves much to be desired.”

“That settles it,” Jason grinned. “Next time you want to call a get-together, we’re having it at the Tap Room. Speaking of which,” he got up, “I’m going to get that beer.”

“Tap Room’s a bar,” Dick pointed out as Jason squeezed into the narrow aisle between the booths. “They won’t let Damian in.”

“I’ll get him a fake ID. We’ll pass him off as Verne Troyer’s kid brother.” He ground his knuckles into Damian’s scalp as he passed, then leaped aside with a laugh when Damian would have retaliated. He narrowly avoided banging into a table. “Back in a sec.”

As Jason vanished in the crowded dining room, Dick leaned a bit closer and rested his elbows on the table. “How are you holding up, Little D?” he asked softly.

For a moment, Damian bristled. Then his face fell and his shoulders slumped. “Joker didn’t do anything. I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

For answer, Damian’s eyes screwed shut and he shook his head stiffly. Long moments passed before he whispered, “Had Father but confided in us sooner...”

“I know,” Dick sighed. “It’s not really his strongest suit.”

There was a bitter laugh and Dick looked up while Damian twisted around to see Tim standing behind the bench. “His strongest suit?” Tim repeated. “It’s so far in the opposite direction, it’s practically a... a...”

“...Tissue paper tuxedo?” Jason suggested as he approached, beer stein in hand.

Dick chuckled. Damian’s lips twitched. Tim tried to keep a straight face, but a guffaw escaped him. Jason slid into the booth next to Dick, set down the beer, and rested his head on one arm as he slapped the table with the other. And then, for a moment, a laughter that had nothing to do with the Smilex hit they’d all taken earlier engulfed the four of them.

“Oh, man,” Tim managed when he’d regained his composure. He came around and sat down next to Damian. “I think we needed that.”

Sometimes, it didn’t take words to demonstrate agreement.

Tim sank against the cushioned back of the chair. “So, why’d you want us to meet here anyway, Dick?”

Dick sobered instantly. “I didn’t think Bruce was entirely wrong. I think maybe we do need to talk about what happened, even if we aren’t ready to discuss it with him.”

“What’s to discuss?” Jason snapped. “Joker attacked us. This time, it was worse than usual, but we beat him and he’s back in Arkham, because Bruce still won’t do what it takes to stop him for good and the state won’t do it either, so we get a breather until the next time he breaks out.” He rolled his eyes. “One day...”

Tim and Damian nodded, Tim a bit more reluctantly.

“I know,” Dick sighed. “It was bad this time. Really bad. I think my jaws have finally stopped aching from the Smilex, but that stunt with our faces...”

“I thought...” Damian began shakily.

“Yeah.” This from Tim. “And all that babbling about freeing Bruce from us... What _was_ that?”

“With Joker?” Jason snorted. “Who knows? Or cares? He’s not exactly what I’d call rational.”

Dick was frowning though. “True, but actually... if you accept his basic premise, which I don’t, but let’s just pretend for a minute... A few years ago, Joker tried to prove to Bruce that anyone was just one bad day away from turning out just like him.”

“Which has something to do with why his mailing address is care of Arkham Asylum,” Jason pointed out.

“I know. But here’s the thing: Joker has given Batman a _lot_ of bad days and it still hasn’t worked.”

“Because Joker’s an idiot,” Jason snapped.

“No,” Tim said slowly. “He’s insane. Not stupid.” He looked at Dick. “You think...?”

“When the facts don’t fit the hypothesis,” Dick mused, “you can scrap the hypothesis, or you can check to see if there are any other factors in play.”

“Other factors?” Damian ventured.

“Us,” Tim said shortly. “When things get really bad for Bruce, we usually help pull him back from the brink.”

“Which Joker wants to push him over,” Dick nodded.

“Get us out of the picture and watch Batman fall,” Tim said. It wasn’t a question.

Damian frowned. “But... we _are_ out of the picture,” he said slowly. “Now. Does that mean that Joker... won?”

The four youths exchanged startled looks. Then they looked guiltily down at their placemats. For a minute that felt like an eternity, nobody spoke. Then Jason’s eyes flashed. He downed the rest of his beer in four gulps. “Over my dead body,” he snapped. “Again,” he added as an afterthought. He rose to his feet. “Fine. Meet you there.”

Damian nodded curtly and rose to his feet. Dick followed. “Tim?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, I’m in, too. No way Joker gets any kind of victory.” He sighed. “And we did sort of act like this was all Bruce’s fault, when it was Joker who actually set us up.”

Dick nodded. “I know.”

* * *

Bruce winced as he heard the hand-bell jingle from the bedroom. Alfred had protested initially. In fact, he’d threatened to wrap his IV pole around Bruce’s... well, actually, Bruce had cut him off before the butler could finish his sentence, but he thought he could guess how it might have ended. Now, Alfred’s goal seemed to be to ring the damned thing until Bruce caved and took it away. He strode to the butler’s room at a brisk trot.

“What can I get you, Alfred?” he asked as he entered.

The butler looked daggers at him. “My tea has gone cold, sir,” he replied. “I would have made a fresh pot myself, but if you will persist in this absurd—”

Bruce plucked the cup off the night table. “No problem. I’ll handle it.”

“Mind you rinse the pot with hot water first,” Alfred dictated.

“I know, Old Friend.”

“Place the leaves in the tea ball and pour boiling water directly over them.”

“I know.”

“Do not use scalding water.”

“I...”

“And do _not_ use the English breakfast tea, sir. I keep it on hand to please _your_ palate, but I much prefer the Darjeeling.”

Bruce forced his hackles back down. “Coming right up.”

“And Master Bruce?”

He was halfway out the door, but turned back. “Yes, Alfred?”

“You will note that, although I view this entire ordeal as patently unnecessary, I am, per your instructions, remaining in bed. Although it galls me, I am permitting you to wait upon me. I trust that the next time our positions are reversed, you will afford me the same courtesy.”

The polite smile froze on Bruce’s face. “Of course, Alfred,” he replied blandly.

As he carried the cup downstairs, he heard familiar voices emerging from the study. Despite his pleased surprise, he made a mental note to find out exactly how Tim—unless it had been Dick—had disabled the perimeter alert and ensure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Their voices were getting closer and he quickened his pace to meet them.

“Sorry we’re late,” Dick said. “We... had a few things to work through.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s understandable,” he managed.

“How’s Alfred doing?”

Bruce was silent a moment too long.

Jason laughed. “Making you feel about as miserable as he is?”

Before Bruce could respond, Damian gestured toward the cup in Bruce’s hand. “I imagine he’d like the Darjeeling, father?”

“Uh... yes...”

Damian tugged on the cup until Bruce released it. “I’ll brew it. I’ve watched Ubu’s preparations countless times.”

“What’s that?” Tim asked as a faint tinkling sound emanated from the second floor.

Bruce stifled a sigh. “Alfred.”

“I’ll see what he wants,” Tim offered. “I should pop in to say ‘hi’ anyway.”

Bruce looked at the two older boys as Tim and Damian raced off. “I’m... glad you reconsidered. All of you. I was...”

Jason shook his head. “If you start getting mushy on us, I’m gonna puke.”

“Never,” Bruce assured him with a smile.

“Good.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Just out of curiosity, what did make you come back?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, we knew it’d happen sooner or later. Figured we’d make it sooner, is all.”

“You knew...”

“Sure,” Dick grinned. “We’re family, after all. No matter how much anyone tries to challenge it.”

An answering smile spread across Bruce’s lips and he clapped a hand to Dick’s shoulder.


End file.
